Tales From a Thousand Worlds

The familiar ring of hammer on anvil carried to Fianna as she neared the village, of the sound of her grandfather Hraega at work as he had been her entire life. Always it had been a comforting sound, as he had seemed to a young girl as indestructible, and with him around she knew no danger could come to her. Now it carried within connotations of a different kind, of the ring of finality. She pushed on, following the path alongside the brook that flowed near the village. Coming around a bend in the hills, she saw it before her.

Follow this link for Part Two of Daughter of the Windswept Hills